American Zero
by GilbertMcBritterz
Summary: Alfred isn't exactly popular. In fact, he's on the bottom of the "food chain" at his school. Is Arthur really willing to give up being the feared punk on school campus, just to give Alfred a chance, or is it all just a joke in the end? Punk!UKxNerd!US rated for language and later chapters
1. Chapter 1

Alfred was familiar with the way things ran at his school. There was a social caste, starting with the sports players. People such as Antonio Carriedo, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and the Vargas Brothers belonged there. The line slowly went down through the Artists, which also included the Vargas Brothers, as well as Francis Bonnefoy.

That line continued till you got to the punks, mostly Arthur Kirkland. And then, at the very bottom of the list, were the nerd, freaks, and losers. That was Alfred's place on the food chain in his school. He was at the very bottom, but Alfred couldn't change that, as much as he wished he could.

His school was a... different kind of place. Students from all over the world came to the school, and Alfred was pretty sure they're was at least one student from every country in the world here. He knew Francis was from France, Antonio from Spain, the Vargas Brothers from Italy. And then there was Arthur.

Arthur Kirkland was from the UK, England, to be more exact. The teen had light blonde hair, and dark forest green eyes. Sadly, it was those eyes that Alfred was obsessed with, the lean but slightly muscular build and Heavily notable British accent only added a few points on Alfred scale.

The American sighed. Too far Arthur was far above him in everything, except perhaps grades. Alfred really did have a bit of a crush on the British Punk, although he would never say that out loud, especially within the teen's hearing range, or to the punk himself. Alfred, as far as he knew, was doomed to spend his life alone.

Alfred looked back down at his book when Arthur looked up, seeming to sense his gaze. He buried his nose back in his history textbook, trying to finish the packet they were supossed to complete, but having some difficulty with it.

He heard the scraping of a chair, and foot steps coming closer to him, despite the loud talking and laughing in the lunch room. " Hey. Were you staring at me?" A heavily accented voice questioned, a slight drawl obvious in his tone. Alfred shook his head. " No. Spaced out... sorry." He mumbled quietly, frowning at his book.

"1965." Arthur spoke quietly, in a hushed whisper. " That's when it happened." Alfred blinked, looking up at Arthur. " Huh?" Arthur smiled slightly. " Number Fifty-seven. The answer is 1965." He seemed to catch his own smile, because just then it turned into a smirk. "Just ask if you need more help." He whispered, then turned and walked back over to his table.

Alfred blinked in confusion, watching Arthur's back as he left. "Did he just... talk to me? And help me?" Alfred's face flushed slightly, and he skimmed the page of the textbook, until he found the year the Brit had given him. " ... He was right..."

* * *

Alfred yawned, laying out on his bed. The rest of the day had gone slowly after lunch, and each class seemed to take forever. The American sighed, rolling over onto his stomach and grabbing his cell phone from the bedside table. He logged onto the forum of one of his favorite sites, then went into a chat room.

* * *

_AmericanZero has entered the room_

**_SilentDead: Hey there Zero. Today any better than before?_**

**_AmericanZaro: Meh. Each day is the same... I guess one thing did stand out though... for once._**

**_SilentDead: Really? What happened?_**

_BritishFucker has entered the room_

_**AmericanZero: This guy I like talked to me today...**_

_**SilentDead: Hey British Dude. That's awesome Zero. Think maybe he likes you two?**_

_**BritishFucker: Hey. Zero, have you even tried actually talking to the dude?**_

_**American Zero: I couldn't... I'm at the bottom of our school... I'm... just... not good enough.**_

_**BritishFucker: Just try it. You never know. Not all people actually care about popularity.**_

* * *

"Al? Dinner's ready!" Alfred heard his mother call up the stairs. He quickly logged off the website. " Alright! I'll be down in just a minute!" He yelled. Alfred pondered over the thought at dinner. Could he really actually try talking to the British Punk?

* * *

and... another new story.

man this makes 6 series at the same time...

or was it 7?

oh well...

either way.

Reviews keep me going.

peace out ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred sighed, hugging his books to his chest as he walked into school that Thursday. He went to his first class, trying to avoid Arthur as much as he could. However, the first class was going to be the hardest, seeing as the two shared an early morning AP math class. The class, like his history class, had recently started to be a growing problem for The American.

Alfred sat down, pushing the dull ache in his head to the back of his mind. He opened his textbook, looking over the math problems he had yet to finish from the night before. He groaned, resting his head in his hands. "You're doing it wrong," He heard someone speak, leather combat boots entering his field of vision. Alfred looked up to be faced with a dark t-shirt sporting the faded design of the Union Jack, and a black semi-studded leather jacket. Arthur's dark green eyes gazed down at him, not showing any trace of their usual stormy temperment.

"Well, how would you do it?" The American questioned, looking back down to the equations. Arthur sat next to him, seeming to pull a pen out of nowhere. " Try it this way," He said with a slight smirk, scribbling on Alfred's scratch paper. Alfred looked over the facial features of Arthur Kirkland while the punk worked, his eyes drawn to Arthur's. The deep emerald eyes were what Alfred found most appealing about the teen's face.

"See?" Arthur's words knocked the American out of his slight trance, bringing his attention back into focus. The punk pointed to the completed problem, answer included. Alfred sighed, looking down. His eyes widened when he saw the Briton's work. " You... How?" He muttered, shocked beyond words. "Come sit with me at lunch. I'll teach you... Tutor, I suppose," Arthur said with a sly grin, getting up and going to his usual seat in the back of the classroom.

* * *

Lunch couldn't have come soon enough, despite the dread that rested in the pit of Alfred's stomach throughout the morning. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the whole thing had been a lie. If for some reason the British punk, the almost exact opposite of Alfred himself, would simply blow him off or scorn him for believing the rather obvious lie.

Nevertheless, Alfred didn't go to his usual table, instead walking past it with only a slight hesitation, and an expected tremble. He approached Arthur's table, feeling the eyes and judgement of everyone in the lunchroom following after him naggingly. He bit his lip, speaking in a small voice. " Hey Arthur..." He mumbled, expecting laughter and jeers from the students around him. There was no such thing. Arthur looked up, smiled slightly, and motioned for Alfred to join him.

He was eating one of those Go-Gurt things, watching Alfred with a serious and sincere look in his eyes as the American sat down. " You should come sit over here everyday," He said blankly, almost like he had been simply thinking out loud.

Alfred looked up in surprise. " S-Seriously?" He made a small noise, though in the future he would deny it was a squeak. Arthur simply nodded, " Yeah... Do I look like I'm kidding?" He raised an unusually large eyebrow. Alfred couldn't help but laugh a little. " It's hard to take you seriously when you're eating yogurt out of a tube."

Arthur laughed at that, the sound raising Alfred's pride, and his hope that he would actually become friends with the teen he had a small crush on. He smiled, relishing in the happiness he felt while it lasted.

* * *

_AmericanZero has entered the room_

**AmericanZero: Yes! He talked to me! He actually talked to me!**

**BritishFucker: See? I told you. Not everyone is as bad as they may seem to be.**

* * *

Alfred wasn't exactly surprised to come home to a dark, empty house. His father was usually away on 'Bussiness trips' although Alfred could tell, by the sickly sweet smell that coated his father's clothing when he returned, that his father wasn't exactly 'working' on these trips. What did surprise the American, however, was the trash and items scattered around the living room. Alfred stepped farther into the house cautiously, looking around him.

Alfred looked into the kitchen, sighing when he saw Matthew and Daniel sitting at the table, maple syrup running off the table to the floor.

" Matt, where's Mom?" Alfred questioned, getting a wet towel and starting to clean up the mess. " She's upstairs... in her room..." Alfred instantly froze. " You mean she...?" He trailed off, looking toward the cieling. Daniel nodded slightly, staring at his small 5-year old hands. " Mommy's sick..." He mumbled. " Mattie tried to make pancakes for us... " Matt started explaining. " Mom wasn't coming out. She says she's too tired to cook."

Alfred nodded. " She's probably locked herself in with the alcohol again," He muttered bitterly, glaring at the roof above their heads. "Go watch TV or something. I'll clean this up, then make some dinner."

Both boys nodded, leaving the room obediantly and Alfred got to work, attempting to clean the syrup first.

* * *

Alfred slumped down next to Arthur at lunch the next day, groaning and resting his head on the table. Arthur grinned. "Hey. Your already turning into one of us." He gestured to Alfred's slightly oversized band t-shirt and black jeans. Alfred barely even looked up. " Nothing else was clean, and I was too tired to do laundry last night."

Technically he meant this morning when he said last night, seeing as he had stayed up until about 2 am cleaning up and looking after his brothers, then doing his homework.

Arthur snorted. " You do your own laundry?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. Alfred Simply nodded. " Don't ask." He mumbled, yawning into his arm.

* * *

"Come on. Hurry up," Arthur urged, tugging the sleepy American's arm. "We need to start our tutoring sessions, and I know the perfect place." Alfred groaned, in a grumpy mood from lack of sleep. " Arthur," He whined, " where are we even going?" The Brit turned back with a slight glint in his eyes. "You'll see." He smiled, pushing through a door.

Sudden light blinded Alfred temporarily and he blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. He stepped out onto the roof of the school, looking around at the clear blue sky. He instantly felt better, looking around happily.

"Are we allowed to be up here?" Alfred looked over at Arthur curiously. The Brit shrugged. " Who cares? I come up here all the time any way," Arthur chuckled, sitting and leaning against the short wall lining the edge of the roof.

"Come on. Let's get started." He smirked, getting his textbooks out of his backpack. Alfred cautiously sat next to Arthur, opening his own notebook.

* * *

Oh yes. Finally, an update.

Sorry guys I've been kinda out of it, we just had testing, and I've been literally FORCED to actually focus in school. Seeing as I now can do NOTHING until I get at least all C's...

SO sorry if updates are slower... but... yeah...

And my cat might have to be put down...

So...

yeah...

peace out


End file.
